


Inspiration

by quittersneverwin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quittersneverwin/pseuds/quittersneverwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has had trouble painting for a while but, luckily, Enjolras is there to provide some inspiration for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

Grantaire awoke to a mesmerising sight: his small room - previously shared with Jehan and, so, decorated with flowers and poetry - was bathed in liquid silver. Even more beautiful, however, was the man spread across his bed. Enjolras had one arm tucked behind his head, his face turned to Grantaire, and he features perfectly highlighted by the glow filling the room. Grantaire wished he could capture the image - the way the sheets were draped dangerously low around Enjolras’ hips, the way his mouth curved in a slight smile, the way his hair always became messy when he slept. With a sudden stab of realisation, it dawned upon him that he could, in fact, do just that.

The only art Grantaire had done in a long time was a handful of comical doodles which depicted the humorous yet tragic demise of anyone who happened to cross him on a particularly bad day. In fact, becoming constantly frustrated at himself for never being able to create the desired effect, Grantaire had sworn he would never paint again. 

However, since art had been his only other vice, Grantaire’s mental block had turned him, even more than usual, to drink. His resulting hangover had been raging for almost two weeks straight and meant that his friends were beginning to worry about him even more than they typically did.

For this reason, when he awoke half an hour later to cold sheets and an empty bed, Enjolras’ first reaction was to panic. All sorts of ideas sprung into his head - scenarios that, had he been completely awake - he would have ruled as unlikely and irrational. Yet, through his haze of sleep, a wave of sick panic settled in his stomach.

As he made to clamber out of bed, the sound of thin whistling calmed his nerves and he paused still sitting on the thin mattress. Grantaire couldn’t whistle with a bottle to his lips or whilst being murdered by hoards of intruders Enjolras, assumed that Grantaire was in the loo and lay back to let the sound wash over him for a while. However, after some time, there was still no sign of his return Enjolras decided to leave the bed, which wasn’t as comfy without his source of warmth there, to investigate.

It had been discovered early on that storing Grantaire’s paints in the same room as Enjolras’ study notes lead to disastrous consequences so a separate ‘art room’ had been set up where Grantaire could paint - or, as of late, drink - in peace and out of danger. 

It was here that Enjolras found him. His back was to the door but Enjolras knew he would have his adorable expression on that was reserved for art. His eyes would be narrowed in concentration, his mouth tense but with a flicker at the corners that could be a grimace just as easily as it could be a grin. Whenever Grantaire put aside any time for his art, he really did focus all of his concentration on it. It consumed him and you could see that in the paintings. You could see his pain, his fear, and, most of all, his love in his drawings.

Still partially lost in the land of sleep, Enjolras moved so that his arms wrapped around Grantaire’s waist, his head falling against the artist’s ear with his chin resting on strong shoulders. He didn’t expect a response, not when Grantaire was painting so, humming along quietly to the whistling, he let himself drift while watching the image appear on Grantaire’s easel.

The painting was above and beyond anything that Enjolras had seen Grantaire create before. It was comprised of silvers, blues, and greys that gave the scene an almost ethereal, underwater feeling. There was a man splayed across a narrow bed with his limbs arranged in a way that could be either relaxed or erotic. With a jolt, Enjolras recognised the mane of blond hair and thin frame of the man in the painting. Was this really how Grantaire saw him? The man was godlike, powerful, and, yet, vulnerable and youthful. He hummed happily against Grantaire’s neck. He was too tired to argue the accuracy of the image right now and, besides, it was blissful to see Grantaire painting again.

At some point between then and the completion of the painting, Enjolras managed to fall asleep still standing up. Carefully, so as not to fully raise him from his dreams, Grantaire changed positions so that he was supporting the sleeping beauty and carry-walked Enjolras back to their room. Even though light was beginning to creep around the edges of the blinds, they settled down together, relieved that Grantaire had finally managed to rid himself of whatever had been troubling him. 

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think :) xxx


End file.
